


Wolf or Kraken?

by Sofisol612



Series: Consequences of an Iron Victory [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Coming of Age, Depression, Drowning, Family, Finger Dance, Gen, Grief/Mourning, House Greyjoy, Identity Issues, Loss of Virginity, Pirates, Pre-Canon, Religion, Role Models
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-13 05:18:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4509294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sofisol612/pseuds/Sofisol612
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Balon Greyjoy's rebellion succeeds and, after getting the Iron Islands' independence, he demands that Lord Eddard Stark's firstborn be sent to Pyke as a ward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Eddard

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Lobo Marino](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1517039) by [Sofisol612](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sofisol612/pseuds/Sofisol612). 



> Hi, before you start reading this translation, I'd like to tell you that, even though it will tell the same story as in Lobo Marino, I mean to change the last chapter entirely, so the ending will be different. However, the rest will remain the same, and I hope the changes will be for the better.
> 
> That said, I hope you enjoy it!

**Eddard**

With his eyes focused in the horizon, he rode north, leading what was left of his army back to Winterfell. He had already gone through that stretch of the Kingsroad once, 5 years before, and it was nearly impossible for him not to think about the many parallelisms between that time and the present.

  
The other time he had travelled at the head of a host, too, after fighting in a war. And he had come back to Winterfell just like now, thinking of his wife, Catelyn, and the new family he now had with her. Wondering how that baby she had written about, who had left Cat’s womb when he was far away would look like.

But this time he already knew his wife, and had lived with her for 4 years. And he knew Robb, their firstborn, and Sansa, the adorable little girl who had learned to say “daddy” shortly before Ned left. The one he didn’t know was Arya, the baby Cat had birthed in his absence.

However, the biggest and most disturbing difference concerned the outcome of the war. When he returned after Robert’s Rebellion, he came back after losing almost everything he cared about (his father had died, and so had his siblings Brandon and Lyanna), but he had returned triumphant, because the war had been won. This time it had been the other way around: his brother Benjen had remained safe at the Wall, while Catelyn, who was living in Winterfell with their children hadn’t been in any danger either. But Ned had been defeated, and now he had to pay the price of the defeat.

Balon Greyjoy had demanded the Independence of the Iron Islands, and the title of King of the Iron Islands. Now the Islands would be ruled according to their own laws, which had been respected in the region before the Conquest. Besides, to make sure that they wouldn’t try to retake the Iron Islands, Balon requested that each of his defeated enemies send him their firstborn to Pyke, where they would be treated as wards, but would actually be hostages.

Stannis had been exempt of that condition, as he didn’t have a son. Balon had lost his interest in taking Robert’s child when he was told that Joffrey was only 3 namedays old, and he had also been exempt, on condition that the Iron Throne would pay a great amount of gold per year to the Seastone Chair in compensation. But Robb had seemed to Greyjoy old enough to be taken to the Islands, and the boy interested him more than any money Eddard could give him.

  
Far away, Ned could see the towers of Winterfell appear in the distance and he sped on. He wanted to reunite with his family and enjoy the short time he still had to be with his son, before parting from him for many years. The only thing that worried him was what Cat would say.

The other time, he remembered, he had returned with a child in his arm; a child that wasn’t hers. It had hurt her very much, and Ned knew she hadn’t yet overcome that blow. Now he would come back to her to tell her she had to part from her firstborn, and send him to some faraway islands, resigning herself not to see him again until he was of age. That would be worse than returning with another bastard and demanding her to breastfeed him along with Arya, Ned thought.

But it wasn’t something he could help, and Catelyn was strong; she would surely understand and accept it in spite of her grief. As he drew near Winterfell he saw that she was there waiting for him, with little Robb and Sansa, who was holding her left hand. Finally he noticed she was holding a lump in her right: a cloth bundle that mantled what Ned guessed was his unknown daughter.

He dismounted and hugged his wife tightly, kissing her. He hailed Robb, picked Sansa up to Kiss her forehead, and regarded his new daughter for the first time. His wife had written in her letters that she had his eyes, and the thin short hair she had grown resembled his much more than Catelyn’s auburn. But the girl was asleep, so he didn’t hold her in his arms, for the moment.

Ned smiled. It was so good to be back home! But his children had to wait a little to have their father’s attention, yet. He had to talk to Catelyn about Robb, and then tell him about the place they would send him to. And he wanted to see Jon, too, and make sure it hadn’t been so hard for him to live without his father. Robb and Sansa at least had a mother who cared about them, but Jon didn’t, and Cat had seen to it from the beginning that nobody thought otherwise.

He chose to inform his wife of the Price to pay for the lost war first, so he told her in a hushed voice that he needed to speak to her alone. Right then, Robb asked Ned to build a snow castle with him. Ned loved playing with Robb, and he hadn’t seen his son for a whole year, but in that moment he had to do something else. Fortunately for Eddard, his wife took over the matter.

“Robb, your father is weary from his journey. We should leave him alone for a few hours, so that he can rest. You can play with him later. Now please, go with maester Luwin, for it is time for your lessons.”

The boy obeyed reluctantly, and Ned went with Catelyn to put Sansa to bed, for it was the time for her nap, and then to her room. There he found a piece of furniture that hadn’t been there when Ned marched off to war: a small cradle where she left the sleeping Arya. After that they sat on the bed and she looked at him, expectantly and somewhat worried about what he would tell her.

He had expected his wife to get angry. To shout at him for letting them take their son away from them, to insult him for failing to defend his family, or to turn away from him and refuse to talk to him or look him in the eyes. Instead, when Ned was done talking she hugged him, wetting Ned’s cheeks con with her silent tears. He hugged her back. She didn’t want someone to blame, but someone to share her grief with and a shoulder to cry on.

They lay on the bed and stayed there, hugging each other silently, until they were interrupted by Arya, who had just woken up and started crying. Catelyn picked the baby from the cradle, sat down on the bed with the girl in her arms and breastfed her. Ned kissed Cat and went out of the room, telling her he was going to find Robb to build the snow castle he had promised.

But the boy Eddard sought was Jon. And he found him in his room, playing with a wooden horse. When the father entered the room, the boy just looked up at him and remained seated, only muttering “hello, father”, unenthusiastically.

“Jon, Is there something wrong with you?” Ned asked him, sitting by his side.

“No, Father. Nothing.”

But Ned knew by the way his son avoided his eyes that he wasn’t saying the truth. That saddened him, because Jon had never lied to him before. Now he seemed to have ceased to trust him due to his long absence. He wondered what he could tell the child to get him to talk to him confidently again, and in the end he decided to offer him to build a snow castle together, thinking that as they played Jon might dare to reveal what was troubling him. The boy accepted the offer, happy.

“Come, let us go to the Maester’s Tower to tell Robb. He wanted us to make a snow castle with him since I arrived,” Ned said.

“Is Robb going to play too?” Jon asked, surprised.

“Yes. Why not?”

“It’s just that Lady Stark doesn’t like me to play with him. When we are together in the yard she always gets angry and tells me to get away from him. Or else she asks Robb to go somewhere with her, or she sends him to maester Luwin for his lessons.”

“And don’t you have lessons too, Jon?”

“No. When I asked Lady Catelyn if I shouldn’t have lessons too she got angry and told me it wouldn’t be her who would see to my education, and that as long as she was in charge of Winterfell I won’t have lessons. She said it wasn’t her fault that… I existed, and that if it was up to her… I wouldn’t be living here. And she said that… bastards like me… don’t have titles… or castles… and they don’t need… to know those things.” As he said that his voice broke gradually, until he ended speaking in sobs.

“Don’t worry: I am in charge of Winterfell now. You will have lessons with maester Luwin if you wish, and you will be able to play with your brother Robb whenever you want. Catelyn will not trouble you any more.” Ned promised, hugging him.

Eddard felt guilty. It looked like his wife had mistreated Jon very much during his absence. When Ned had marched off to fight the Greyjoys, Jon hadn’t learned yet the meaning of the word ‘bastard’. Now he didn’t only seem to understand it perfectly, but he was also painfully conscious of being one.

Ned knew that Catelyn was a kind woman most times, but she had from the beginning treated Jon as if he had chosen not to be hers. Sometimes he wondered if it wouldn’t be better to tell her the truth, but he wasn’t certain. She might get offended by the fact that he had not trusted her, and she could take revenge by telling Robert, or Jon. He didn’t think that she would truly do that, but it was better not to take unnecessary risks.

Jon settled down and wiped his tears away, and they went to find Robb. He was very thrilled at the idea of building the promised snow castle with his father and brother. And Eddard didn’t think his eldest son seemed surprised to see that Jon would play with him too; he just looked happy.

Maybe, then, Catelyn had not insulted Jon in front of his older brother, and Robb had no reason to think they shouldn’t be playing together. Or maybe, Robb knew Ned loved both his sons equally, and he wanted them to love and respect each other, as brothers. Maybe, Robb loved his brother Jon, and he saw him as a peer. Maybe he thought that, despite what his mother might say, playing with him was the most natural thing in the world.

And as they built the castle together, Ned couldn’t help but notice how happy his sons were then: together, playing in the snow and helping each other. He was also happy, because there is no greater joy for a parent than his children’s happiness. But he was sad at the same time, because he knew that it wouldn’t last. His children would be separated again soon, and a long time would go by before they met again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! And if you did, I'd love to read your feedback.


	2. Robb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This happens a year after the previous chapter, in Pyke.

**Robb**

With effort he helped Theon lift his boat and take it to the shore. It was big enough for 6 people to fit in it together, and it was hard for the 2 boys to move it. The varnish made the wood shine with the midday sun they were exposed to.

Theon was excited: he had been waiting for the opportunity to use his new boat ever since his uncle Victarion gave it to him for his 11th nameday, 3 days ago. But it had rained nonstop for all that time, and he hadn’t been able to do it until now, when a rainless day without threatening clouds to prevent their excursion to the sea had come at last.

His friend had tried to talk his older sister, Asha, into coming with them to the new ship’s maiden voyage, but she had long before lost her interest in rowing-boats, which she deemed childish, and she preferred to sail the sailboat her father had gifted her some moons ago, with Tris, her best friend. So Asha had rejected Theon’s invitation, and only Robb went with him.

The little boy was glad that Theon, who had ignored him and rejected him for being “such a child” many times, finally decided to invite him to take part of his games. But he was at the same time terrified by the idea of going far into the sea, where he wouldn’t be able to foothold in case he fell off the boat. His aquatic experiences in Winterfell were limited to some dips in the hot pools by the godswood, but the ponds’ water was drinkable, and every time he had got into it, there had been a grown up watching. Since he had arrived in Pyke he had gradually dared to go each time a bit further into that great body of saltwater that was always moving, but he hadn’t yet got beyond the point where the water reached his neck, and he wasn’t especially eager to do it now.

But Robb wasn’t going to behave like a scared little boy in front of Theon: the last thing he wanted was his friend to mock him for acting like a baby. So when they got to the shore he climbed into the boat with the other boy, took an oar and willed himself to make the boat move forth into the deep, without complaints and trying to be brave. Theon didn’t utter any teasing comment but the smile that appeared in his face every time he looked at him made Robb doubt his ability to hide his fears.

“Robb, you must row faster! We are turning to the right!” Theon told him suddenly.

And it was true: the boat was turning towards Robb’ side, because he couldn’t row with the same strength and speed as his bigger friend’s. He tried hard to speed up, and noticed happily how the boat turned slowly back to its initial direction. When he finally managed to direct it to the open sea, he turned to look at Theon and get an approving comment for having rowed faster than him, at least for some seconds.

But Theon said nothing, and Robb realized that he had laid down his oar. The boat had returned to its initial course because Theon had stopped rowing, and not because of Robb’s speeding. The boy looked down, disappointed, as the other boy picked his oar again, starting to row again, but this time slower, at Robb’s pace.

Some minutes later they reached a depth that Greyjoy deemed enough, and they stopped. Each of them picked a fishing rod and they talked idly for a while, waiting for some fish to take the bait.

Robb regarded the landscape: the sea surrounding him from every side, glowing with the sun; the island of Pyke with the Greyjoy’s castle if he looked back, the other Iron Islands far away at one side, and in the other one a massive and blurred shape: the rest of Westeros. Robb knew no one could see him from any of those places, and he was conscious of how small he was: an invisible dot in a boat that, in the distance, was invisible too. Robb tried to think about something else, because he didn’t like to feel small, especially when he was in an environment where he didn’t know how to handle himself.

After trying to catch something for a long time, and getting only a small black and yellow stripped fish that Robb fished, they decided to start back. Theon rowed alone to turn the boat until it faced the shore first, and then Robb rowed too, moving slowly but straight to the beach.

“Well, I think the sea isn’t so treacherous after all. I may go a bit deeper tomorrow, so that we can swim together,” suggested Robb, who had decided after their quiet excursion that he wanted to learn how to swim.

“Actually, Robb, the sea _is_ treacherous. But we wouldn’t be brave if we only dared to do easy things, quiet and safe. Besides, you have much more chances to get hurt when we play and spar with wooden swords than when rowing. In fact, I have already given you more bruises tan you can count, and yet you aren’t afraid to train with me. I should feel offended by that, don’t you think?” Theon answered, amused.

Robb nodded, smiling proudly because his friend had included him among the “brave”. He would definitely learn how to swim, and show Theon, and himself more than anything, that he truly deserved to be considered as such. A lot of moving saltwater couldn’t frighten him.

“Robb, get down!” Theon shouted suddenly. Robb was going to ask him why, but his friend jumped out to the water and sank without a word. Scared, he turned around to see what was going on just in time to see the gigantic wave about to break over him. The boat shook violently, and Robb fell with a scream.

He closed his eyes as he fell, because he knew keeping them open would only cause him pain. He held the breath he hadn’t let out with his cry and kicked fiercely, trying to get to the surface. But with his eyes closed and the waves shaking him endlessly, he soon lost all notion of space and was unable to tell where the sandy ground was and where the limit between the seawater and the air he was so eager to breathe.

He started to let out the air gradually, because he couldn’t stand the pressure in his lungs. He kicked harder, despairing. A wave pushed him down, crushing him hard with the sand. The blow hurt his arm, the limb in which he landed, but it also let him know he was touching the ground. Even though it meant he was as far from the surface as he could be, it also meant he knew which way to go.

Robb propelled himself with his legs, getting away from the sand and kicking as fast as he could, upwards. But he couldn’t hold what little air he still had in his lungs, and he released it before he reached the surface. He couldn’t help inhaling either, and the saltwater hurt his nose and throat, burning him. He stroked and kicked for his life, but it was not enough. He felt someone take him, holding his body under an arm.

He woke up coughing seawater, lying on the sand, in the seashore. His throat and nose still stung, but now he could breathe. Before him was Asha, who had her hands pressed against his bare chest. Robb knew she had been performing the queer maneuvers the Drowned Men did to bring the drowned back to life: pressing the unconscious person’s chest rhythmically, making him breathe until he woke up.

“Are you all right?” She asked him.

“Yes. Thank you, lady Asha,” Robb answered, sitting up.

“Of course he’s fine: it was just a bit of water,” Theon, who seemed to be there too, complained.

“A bit of water might be enough to kill you, Theon,” the girl reminded her brother.

“So? _What is dead may never die. But it rises again, harder and stronger_ ,” Theon recited. “Robb could do with some danger.”

“Robb is brave enough for his age. You are the immature boy who should grow up already, and stop acting like a jealous little boy when your friend almost drowns,” Asha scolded him. “And it’s lunchtime now, so I’d advise you to go put some dry clothes on and eat, unless you want to be hungry until dinner.”

With that, Asha walked away from them until she got to Tristifer, who was walking in their direction to see what had happened, and she took him to the castle as they talked, possibly about Robb’s recent resurrection.

“Le tus go, Stark! Or do you want to skip lunch?” Theon, who was standing in front of him, urged him impatiently.

Robb rose quickly and followed his friend to the castle, determined not to annoy him any more than he already had by drowning. He was his only friend, and he didn’t want him to ignore him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! And if you did, I'd be very happy to read your comments!


	3. Theon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, an year later, in Pyke.

**Theon**

His training sword had barely clashed a few times with Robb’s when he screamed.

“What’s the matter?” Theon asked, annoyed.

“You hurt me! Look: my arm is bleeding.”

Theon drew near and saw a thin streak of blood coming from a shallow cut near the child’s elbow. It wasn’t serious; Theon had had worse cuts training with his older brothers, before they died for the Islands’ independence, and with Tris, during the short time in which he had lived in Pyke. The youth had sailed off to Blacktyde a moon before, with no apparent reason. Tristifer got on well with everyone in the family, and though he was older than Theon, he was not yet an adult, and he could have stayed in Pyke until he was 16, as they had planned from the beginning. He suspected Tristifer’s disappearance was due to his secret relationship with Asha, of which Theon had found out when he saw them kissing at the beach from a distance.

Anyway, the thing was that Tris had left, and Theon had no one to practice with but Robb, and the boy didn’t know how to use the tourney swords: he had only used the wooden ones until that day. He was far from being a fit rival for Theon, who could defeat him with his eyes closed without getting a scratch (or so he believed.) But he was all he had, and he wasn’t willing to lose him for such a stupid thing like that.

“Come with me, Robb. Let’s fetch some water to wash that. If you want we can continue with wooden swords after, so that you don’t get hurt again,” he said to encourage him. The boy followed him, but nonetheless he told him “I don’t want to continue with wooden swords. Those are for children, and nobody uses them here. I will learn to fight with a tourney sword, like you.”

Theon smiled, partly because seeing this little 7 namedays old boy refuse to fight with wooden swords claiming that they “are for children” amused him. But he also smiled of pride, because he noticed that Robb admired and looked up to him.

Theon was the youngest of his father’s children, and as such, he had never been a role model to anyone. To Rodrik he had only been a baby that was born when he was old enough to be part of the crew of a ship in the Iron Fleet and fight in battles. To Maron he had been a little brother, who acted as page and squire when needed. And to Asha he was the younger brother she could tease whenever she wanted, knowing beforehand that she’d get away with it. It was very annoying and depressing to know how unimportant he was to all of his family. Even his mother had stopped paying him any mind, being too dejected since the deaths of her older and favorite sons.

For Robb it would be the other way around, Theon thought. He was Eddard Stark’s firstborn, and though he had a half-brother of his same age, as far as Robb had told him Jon was physically smaller than him, and he wasn’t any quicker than him. Besides, the legitimate son was Robb, and he was the most important in the family. What a change it would be for him to live in Pyke, where he was the youngest, and not even part of the family!

“Fine, Robb. But you should better use armor from now on,” Theon finally accepted.

“Will you use armor too?” The boy asked.

“Not me. We Ironborn don’t use armor, because we fight from the sea, with our ships, and the armors wouldn’t let us swim,” Theon explained.

“Then, I won’t use armor either. If you don’t need it, neither do I.”

Theon didn’t bother trying to convince him: in the 2 years they had lived together, Theon had learned that when he wanted, Robb could be impossibly stubborn. Besides, he liked his friend’s courage. It was a quality he respected in everyone, and in some way Theon believed Robb’s bravery was at least a little related to the child’s wish to imitate him.

So they got to the kitchen and asked for a water pail for Robb. He washed his cut quickly, eager to go back to the practice yard and show his skills, even though his endurance and perseverance were, in Theon’s opinion, the only special qualities the boy could boast of at his young age. When he had wiped off every trace of blood from his wound and checked that it had stopped bleeding, he returned the bucket with the water that was left in it, and they went out once more.

When they got to the yard they stood facing each other, in the center, because there was no one else training at that moment and they had all the space for themselves. Theon was on guard, with his shield raised and his sword ready to block Robb’s, decided to let his friend attack first.

The boy studied him carefully and frowned when he saw that Theon didn’t attack, but he didn’t move. He held his gaze and nodded, motioning for him to attack, but the child didn’t seem willing to obey. Theon was starting to wonder whether he should attack first to get the fight started once and for all when it came: a quick thrust that hit his left rib, followed by another one in the shoulder.

Theon was slow to react, but when he did it wasn’t very hard for him to stop his blows and make him step back, so he soon had him defending and blocking, while he attacked and cornered him. After a few minutes he accidentally hurt Robb again. The boy cried out in pain, and Theon lowered his sword, believing that the wound had put an end to the battle, for the moment. But Robb smiled and raised his, taking it to Theon’s neck, where he made a shallow cut.

This needled Theon: he had given Robb the chance to hit first to encourage him, but his winning the fight was not nearly part of the plan. He was already 12, old enough to be a squire. And he was besides the Seastone Chair’s Crown Prince. Being beaten by a  child from the green lands was humiliating. Theon dropped his sword hard, in defeat and frustration. He expected Robb to make fun of him and brag about his feat, as any other child would if he had just beaten an older boy for the first time. But the teasing voice he heard then wasn’t the boy’s:

“Robb! I see you have already managed to defeat Theon. Congratulations! My little brother is no big deal, but for a boy your age it’s pretty impressive.” It was Asha, who had come in the worst possible moment: just in time to see him defeated by Robb.

“Well Theon, I was hoping to challenge you when you were done with Robb, assuming you would win.” Now that she was addressing him directly, her tone became outrageously derisive, getting to offend Theon. “But it seems Stark will have the honor. Do you accept, Robb?” She said, using her normal voice to talk to the child.

“Thank you, lady Asha, but I don’t fight against women,” Robb answered politely.

“Don’t tell me you are one of those who believe we girls can’t fight! That’s nonesense. A strong and well-trained woman can very well beat a man. But don’t worry: if you don’t dare fight me yet, I’ll challenge Theon. Do you accept, brother, or have you had enough humiliation for one day?”

Asha had provoked him so much he had no choice but to take up the challenge. With a smile that drove him mad his sister faced him. Theon managed to rip her clothes and he gave her some blows that were likely to leave bruises, but he ended on the floor in less than 5 minutes. When Asha left, leaving him alone with Robb again, he rose furiously, saying to himself that one day he would be a man grown and he would be strong enough to show his sister her place.

But for the moment, the strength he had had left him. He told Robb he was tired and wanted to be alone, and went to the beach. There he entertained himself by throwing stones to the sea, making them bounce on the water. He didn’t go back until dinnertime, when his bad temper had weakened enough for him to be able to see his sister again at table without starting an uncivilized food fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it!


	4. Asha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you read this chapter, I would like to explain something about it.
> 
> When I wrote the original version of this fic, I wanted to write mostly about Robb and Theon, but I also wanted to give the other characters of House Greyjoy some attention, and to show what happened with the family as time went by. That is the reason that led me to write this chapter, and the one I'll post next week. You can read them if you want, but if you are not interested in them you don't need to, because all the chapters in this fic are independent (though they are still connected with each other and happen in chronological order.) 
> 
> That said, I hope this angsty chapter doesn't put you off reading the following chapters. 
> 
> Oh, and this chapter is set one year after the previous one.

**Asha**

Robb handed her the parchment in which he had drawn the map of Westeros and where he had marked its different kingdoms, with its different ruling houses and their castles. It was just a general map, and only the great houses of Westeros were there, because there was no way she could teach the boy about all the noble houses of the seven kingdoms even if she wanted to, as she didn’t know them herself. She meant to make him study further about the Iron Islands, of which she did know all the houses and their members by heart. And she would also have to learn about the North’s nobility to teach him that too, because one day the boy was going to rule in that region, and he needed to know who lived there.

Asha sighed as she appraised her student’s work. Being a child’s tutor was something she had never thought she would do. She was much better fighting, or sailing. It wouldn’t have bothered her if her father had asked her to teach Robb how to use an axe, or to take him as a page. But this was annoying, and if she wasn’t completely convinced that her father took her seriously, she would have thought he was underestimating her, or trying to show her “her place as a woman”.

Even though she knew the task wasn’t meant as an insult, Asha had complained to Lord Balon about it. “If you are so interested in Stark’s education, write to the Citadel and ask them to send us a maester. They know everything Robb must learn, and if the boy lived in Winterfell he would be taught by one of them.”

“I will not call a maester from the Citadel. As far as I know, they are all useless, incapable to cure a simple wound caused by a finger-dance game. Besides, the Citadel is in the Reach, and those who study there are from the greenlands. We Ironborn don’t need that people.” Her father had answered.

Asha hadn’t insisted, because, if there was a man she respected, it was her father. Besides, the matter of maesters and their relation with his brother Urrigon’s premature death was one of the few taboos they had in their family. So, instead of pressing him, Asha had suggested taking Robb to Ten Towers, where the Reader of Harlaw could tutor him. But Balon Greyjoy had refused, saying he wanted Lord Stark’s heir in Pyke. And Asha had finally accepted the task her father imposed her.

Back to the present, the young woman saw that the assignment her pupil had done was passable, though his handwriting was barely legible. She would have to make him practice his calligraphy, she thought.

“This is good, Robb. But there is something missing.”

“What is it?”

“The Iron Islands, of course.”

“But I drew them! They are here, don’t you see them?” Robb protested, pointing them.

“Here I see many misshapen stains, and the words'Iron Islands'. But which one is Pyke? Which one is Harlaw? And why is Old Wick as big as Great Wick?”

When the boy stared at her blankly, she told him to correct the mistakes she had pointed out. Robb seemed irked, but he obeyed all the same. Asha was already 16 namedays old, and it was probably the age Robb’s mother had been when he was born. Maybe, she thought, that was the reason why he took her so seriously: she was an adult, and not a peer, as Theon was for him.

As soon as Robb had finished making a passable drawing of the Islands Asha released him at last. He run away, possibly to find out if Theon wanted to play with him, and she went to her mother’s room. Alannys had been deeply upset by the deaths of her older sons, and she hadn’t yet got over her loss. Lord Balon hardly ever paid her any mind, and Theon was too immature to understand her, and he was somehow angry at her for her apparent lack of interest in him. Asha was the only one who understood her, and who kept her company once in a while.

She found her seated on a chair, working on something that looked like a pair of silken gloves. Her mother was good with needlework, and she had taught Asha to sew when she was little, but she had never shared her mother’s interest in feminine arts and ladylike activities.

“Good morning, mother,” she hailed her, taking a seat next to Alammys.  
“Good morning, Asha. How are you?”

“Fine, I guess. Robb hasn’t yet pretended to have a headache to avoid my lessons, so I think I’m not such a terrible teacher,” she laughed. “And you? What are you sewing?”

“I am making some silken gloves for you, child. They will be comfortable, delicate and black, with golden details. The colors of your house, so that you can keep them always with you, and remember them,” her mother answered with a tender smile, looking at her with her bright and moist eyes.

“But mother, I will never forget my house, don’t you know it? I have lived all my life in Pyke, I see my house’s banners fluttering over our castle and the Iron Fleet’s ships every day, and the words “We Do Not Sow” are so familiar to me that they could very well have been the first ones I ever said. It’s very kind of you, mum, but you have no need to worry about me forgetting that I’m a Greyjoy, because it won’t happen,” Asha tried to reassure her.

“Child, you are worthy of your surname, and you make all our family proud, but you are a girl. How can we be certain we will not lose you when your father marries you off, and you move to your husband’s lands, away from us?” Her mother voiced her concerns.

Asha didn’t know what to answer to that. She had always been self-confident, and she was positively convinced that her skills weren’t in any way lower than men’s. And most of them had learned to respect her as a warrior and sailor. Many treated her with the same freedom and trust with which they talked to each other, and she was proud of it. But deep inside, Asha knew that, being a woman as she was, it couldn’t be like that forever. Her father would find her a husband sooner or later, and she would have to leave Pyke, and change her surname for his. She would be expected to have children and, if she wasn’t lucky, her husband would get jealous because of her relaxed and provocative behavior with other men, or he would be ashamed of having a wife who was as successful a sailor and fighter as him, and he would lock her in a tower, taking her freedom away from her. Just thinking about that got her down, but she wasn’t going to share her insecurities and worries with her mother; she was already worried enough without her help.

“I will not let them take my identity away, mother. If they force me to get married, I will always remember that my house is the one in which I was born, and that it will always go before my husband’s in my priorities. And I will fight if I need to, as I have always done, for what matters most to me: my freedom. I won’t lose myself, and you won’t lose me,” she finally decided to answer, getting her confidence back and comforting her concerned mother.

“It’s good to know: that you won’t go away. I don’t think I could bear it. I cried until I ran out of tears when I heard about Rodrik, and I wanted to die when I found out about Maron’s death.” She lowered her eyes as if she was ashamed of herself before she kept talking. “Sometimes I dream of them, you know? I wake up, and I remember I won’t see them again, and I can’t find a reason to get up. Other times I forget what happened, and I go down to the practice yard, to see them train. Once I found Theon there... and I asked him.... whether he had seen them... And he stared at me as if I was... mad. Only then... did I remember it.” In the end of her story she broke off and started sobbing, as tears ran down her cheeks.

Asha was shocked because, though she knew very well that the deaths of her sons had been devastating for Anannys, she hadn’t realized the extent of the damage she had suffered up to that moment. She hugged her mother tightly, and she held her firm and tenderly as she cried on her shoulder, until she stopped sobbing. Finally she helped her get to her bed, and then she got her some sweetsleep so that she could sleep easy, thinking that it was the best thing she could do, for the time being. She tried to settle her down, telling her that everything was fine and there was nothing wrong with her every time she asked her if she thought she was mad.

Asha really didn’t know how sane her mother was now that she had confessed her that, but just thinking that she could really be mad horrified her. Seeing the strong and cheerful woman who had loved and looked after her when she was a child in such pitiful state saddened her greatly. After a while Alannys took a deep breath, closed her eyes and kept quiet. Asha closed the curtains to prevent the sunlight from disturbing her, kissed her mother’s forehead and sat on a chair beside her, waiting for her to fall asleep.

In the meanwhile, she wondered what she should do. She couldn’t just leave her there, and do nothing to help her. Maybe she should talk to somebody about it. But, who would help her? Theon would certainly be more puzzled than her, and her father didn’t seem very interested in her wife’s grief. Ironmen were strong, and they laughed about pain. They weren’t concerned by women’s tears.

Asha thought then of what she had just discussed with her mother. Alannys had shared her concern about Asha forgetting her family when she got married, and she was asking her always to remember her house. She had thought at the beginning that her mother’s fears came from the painful experience of losing 2 sons, as that was what her mother had intimated. But, what if she had wanted to say something else, without even noticing it? Asha believed it was quite likely that Alannys missed the home where she was born, and that after so much loss she might like to go back to Ten Towers and meet her siblings again. She would probably feel more comfortable and cared about there than in Pyke.

After checking that her mother’s breathing was deep and her eyes were delicately closed, she went stealthily out of the room. She picked some ink and parchment and went to her room, where she sat down to write a letter to her favorite uncle, Rodrik Harlaw, to ask him to invite her family over to Ten Towers.

She smiled, realizing that now that she had a plan, she was again the same Asha as ever: energetic, carefree and confident. If she was lucky, nothing and nobody would make her change.


	5. Alannys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this chapter happens about a year after the last one.

**Alannys**

Sitting at her dressing table she looked into the mirror. She was dressed in an elegant black gown, as black was the color she had been wearing for the last 4 years, and she had a pearl necklace on. Her hair was short, so she had no need to tie it back. She had started wearing it that way since it had started to gray, some time ago.

She was elegant, and relatively pretty, considering that she had never been particularly beautiful, and that she was already 43 years old: age in which the hair color faded and wrinkles marked the face. It was also the perfect age to have grandchildren, but that couldn’t be. Her eldest sons, who would now be old enough to have children, were no more. Asha was a woman grown, but she wasn’t married, or even betrothed, so she couldn’t expect anything from her. And Theon was now 14 namedays old, which meant he was still a boy. Alannys doubted that she would live long enough to hold her first grandchild in her arms.

She sighed, trying to drive those horrible thoughts off her mind. It would do her no good to mourn for something that couldn’t be changed. She rose and exited her room, and then went to the castle’s gate, where her family and Robb, Balon’s little ward, were waiting for her. She smiled at them, to let them know she was fine: her children were very worried about her of late, and she didn’t want to frighten them. Theon smiled back at her naturally, but Asha didn’t seem so sure.

“Well, now that we are all here, we can go to the stables to pick the horses. It will be a short ride, so we’ll share. I don’t mean to make a parade out of our journey to Lordsport. Besides, Victarion will have to bring them back afterwards, so the fewer they are the better,” King Balon announced. “Alannys, you shall go with Asha. I will take Theon with me, and my brother will ride with Stark.” That said, he started walking towards the stables, expecting them to follow.

Victarion was already there, with the horses ready: a small brown mare for the house’s women, a grey horse for Robb and him, and a great black stallion for the king and his son. Asha helped her mount, and then she climbed on. Then they started the ride to the harbor, which took them a bit longer than an hour’s trot.

When they got to the port they got aboard the Black Wind. It was a new ship they had bought for Asha, and she had asked to take the family in it so that she could show it to her uncle Rodrik. Her father had accepted gladly, because he was proud of his daughter, and he wanted her to be seen as the iron woman she was, captaining her own ship. Alannys was proud of her too, and she was sure she would miss her. Because, though her family would stay in Ten Towers just for a fortnight, because of Rodrik Harlaw’s 40th nameday, she was going to stay and live there, her daughter had told her.

Harlaw was near Pyke, the sea was quiet and the weather favorable, so the trip took less than a day. Her brother Rodrik went personally to meet them in the shore. “Welcome to Harlaw, Your Grace,” Rodrik greeted her brother-in-law with a bow.

“Thank you for your invitation, lord Rodrik. And I wish you a happy nameday,” he answered.

“Dear sister, how are you?” He addressed her then.

“I’m fine, little brother. I hope you don’t mind my presence in Ten Towers,” said Alannys humbly to her brother.

“Nonsense! You have always made for better Company than Gwynesse, and I don’t complain about her living with me. However, I would appreciate it if you didn’t claim Ten Towers for yourself for as long as I’m alive,” he said, half-joking. After that he turned to Asha, somewhat playfully. “Is this my niece? The captain of the famous Black Wind? And what happened to the little girl who played with rag dolls?”

“And what happened to my uncle? Where is the Reader of Harlaw, who didn’t leave his books even to use the privy?” Asha teased him back.

“I see my niece is a bold girl! Well here is the Reader of Harlaw: I haven’t changed at all. I have only left my books in Ten Towers because, if it happened to rain, I have no wish to ruin them,” he replied. After that he looked at Theon and exclaimed “And here is Theon! Do you remember your uncle?”

“Yes, I do. You came to Pyke when Rodrik turned 16, and you stayed with us for some time. You taught me to read,” the youngest Greyjoy recalled.

“Quite so. It’s been such a long time since then! Surely _you_ are about to turn 16 now.”

Theon smiled, proud to be considered older than he was. The boy was 14 namedays old, but he was relatively tall and strong, and he could perfectly pose as a youth of 16. His face, however, was still that of a boy, with his soft skin and without the typical facial hair of grown men. Rodrik’s eyes then found Robb Stark, and he frowned.

“And who is this redheaded boy? Alannys, I don’t remember you told me you had another child since I last saw you. What is his name?”

“He isn’t my son, Rodrik. His name is Robb Stark, and he is Balon’s ward. His father is Lord Eddard Stark, the Lord of Winterfell,” she informed him.

“Rightly so! I was wondering why he didn’t look at all like you. But he seems to be a strong boy, and he doesn’t appear to feel sick, as most greendlanders do after traveling by ship. Tell me Robb, do you like the Iron Islands?” Rodrik asked the child.

“I don’t know: so far I have only been to Pyke, and I think I like it. I like swimming in the sea, boating and riding the sailboat. I like playing with the sand and climbing rocks. But the place itself, I think it lacks something,” answered the boy shyly.

“What is it?” Rodrik asked, curious.

“There are no woods in the island. There are no trees; I have hardly seen some small plants.”

“Well, the Iron Islands have never been a particularly good place for trees. Besides, as you surely know, the Greyjoys don’t sow,” the Reader informed Robb. Then it started to drizzle, and Harlaw urged them to mount the horses he had brought for them, and to follow him to Ten Towers.

The days that followed their arrival went by without any important event. Alannys found her older sister, and realized that she was having a harder time than her getting over her loss. Gwynesse hadn’t had children, and her husband’s death had left her with nothing. Now she held on to Ten Towers, claiming that it should be hers because she was the eldest of the Harlaws.

Rodrik had lost, just like Alannys, 2 sons in the Greyjoy Rebellion, but she saw no signs of that in his appearance, or in his behavior. His demeanor was the same as ever: generally quiet and more inclined to be serious than to make japes, but he didn’t lack energy, and there was a kindness both in his face and in his voice that told her he wasn’t a dejected man, but one who had overcome his life’s tragedies.

The boys spent most of their time exploring the rocks by the sea. Asha was with the adults most of the time, either talking quietly, or taking walks on the beach, or training with her uncle and father. Sometimes she went with Rodrik to the library, maybe to read, or maybe to have fun by teasing her uncle for a while. She also joined Alannys a few times while she embroidered.

On Rodrik’s nameday they had a feast, with more than 10 courses and singers who played music while they ate. All the houses of Harlaw were invited, and Alannys talked with everyone that night. She was not very fond of parties, but having one every once in a while lifted her spirits.

A week after the feast, her family sailed back to Pyke. She parted with a kiss from Balon, the man she had sworn to love and be loyal to before she even knew him. She parted from Robb, who had got many a tender smile from her despite not being her son. She kissed Theon’s forehead, thinking that he was the only son she had left and feeling guilty for not being a better mother to him. And she hugged Asha, the daughter who had always been by her side. She was going to miss them very much, but she didn’t allow herself to cry in front of them.


	6. Aeron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, one year later, in Pyke.

**Aeron**

The youth knelt on the sand, as the priest told him, and Aeron poured the saltwater of his flagon over his face. The boy closed his eyes until the water stopped falling, and then he looked at him, expectant.

“ _Let Theon your servant be born again from the sea, as you were. Bless him with salt, bless him with stone, bless him with steel_ ,” Aeron prayed.

It was the most common of the Drowned God’s blessings, and it could apply to nearly every situation, but it was mostly used to bless young men who came of age, or boys who marched to war for the first time. This time, Aeron was blessing his nephew because he was going to join his uncle Victarion in a voyage to the Free Cities for the first time. Aeron had his doubts about the boy, who was barely 15 and not especially mature. But it was past time that he had his first plundering experience, considering that he would soon be old enough to be the captain of his own ship. So, instead of voicing his opinion about the lad, he agreed to bless Theon before the rest of the family.

His nephew, who was still kneeling and looking to his eyes, recited “ _What is dead may never die_.”

“ _What is dead may never die_ ,” Aeron confirmed. “ _But it rises again, harder and stronger_.”

Then, Theon rose, marking the end of the “ceremony”. King Balon approached his son, pleased, and Victarion followed him. Now he was ready to travel to far places, raid cities, capture ships, rape women and more. Of course, Aeron knew that the Drowned God’s blessing wasn’t needed for that; Euron did it perfectly, and he made fun of religion openly. But, in his opinion, only the godly men should be allowed to do such things.

“When I do my first trip, will you bless me too?” A child asked Aeron suddenly.

The drowned man turned to look at Robb Stark. His clear blue eyes and his bright auburn hair made the boy stand out as an outsider in the family. But Aeron knew him since the child had got to Pyke, and the way he spoke, his general behavior and his admiration for Asha and Theon revealed that the little boy was willing to do almost anything to become an ironman like them.

“I can only bless those who believe in the Drowned God, boy. You were born in the North, where the gods have no names and live in the woods,” he told the child.

“But I live in Pyke now, and I believe in the Drowned God. Please, Damphair! Tell me what I must do to get your blessing,” Robb begged.

“We Ironborn submerge our children in seawater when they are babies, surrendering them to our god. I can make you a drowning ceremony, if you wish, and convert you to the Drowned God’s faith,” Aeron suggested then.

“That would be a terrible idea, uncle,” Asha intervened, as bold as ever when it came to speak her mind “What would Lord Eddard Stark say is we brought him his son back converted to our faith? He would never forgive us, and he would possibly attack the Iron Islands in revenge, after executing Robb with his House’s ancestral sword, or at least disowning him and sending him to the Wall.”

“My father would never do anything like that” Robb said, offended. “He doesn’t kill people without reason. And there is nothing wrong in serving in the Wall. My uncle is in the Night’s Watch, and he is an honest and honorable man.”

“If the boy wants his drowning ceremony, go on, Aeron,” Balon commanded. “I don’t think Lord Stark will attack us: we all know how the other war ended.”  
Stark smiled when he heard this, and Aeron told him to come near him. He did so, and he knelt facing the sea as Theon had.

“Submerge your head in the water, Robb,” the drowned man instructed him. He obeyed.

Aeron held the boy’s head for some time to make it stay under water. Eventually he let him out again, and he took a deep breath. In ceremonies with newborn babies the children weren’t normally submerged for more than a couple of seconds, but Robb was already 10 namedays, and it seemed to Aeron that making him hold his breath for half a minute was just fair.

Then the Damphair recited the blessing he had said for Theon some minutes before, while Robb listened attentively, excited. When it was his time to say his part, he spoke loud and clearly, and his voice was that of a proud and self-confident child.

“ _What is dead may never die._ ”

“ _What is dead may never die, but it rises again, harder and stronger_.”

And Robb rose happily, ready for Theon’s pats on the back, and Asha’s hug. Because, though she had pronounced herself against converting the heir to Winterfell, she seemed to have found some religious fervor that had moved and cheered her with the act. Balon and Victarion also congratulated the boy.  
When they returned to the castle for lunch, they discussed about the time and place of the heir to the Seastone Chair’s first trip. Balon suggested a short one to Braavos, where they could buy products from the Free Cities at much lower prices than in the Islands or Westeros. He warned Victarion that if he meant to raid the city, he shouldn’t do it with the kraken’s banner high, because he wasn’t particularly interested in starting an unnecessary war against Braavos. Robb asked to take part on the excursion, as Theon’s squire, but he didn’t allow it.

“You are too young for this kind of trips, Robb. I will take you in a couple of years, when you are older.”

The little one insisted, but he could not always get what he wanted, and this was one of the frustrating times he had to face that fact. Aeron wondered if Stark wanted to captain a ship someday. It was very likely, as he had been living in Pyke since he was very young, and all his possible role models were captains, or would be captains soon. Was Robb aware of the fact that he would only live in the Iron Islands until he came of age? Did he know that by the time he was old enough to captain a ship he would be back in Winterfell? And that even if he stayed for more time, nobody would trust a longship of the Iron Fleet to a northener like him?

Evidently he didn’t know, and he was bound to be greatly disappointed when he found out. Aeron knew that the boy would never be a kraken, because he had been born a wolf, and that was something that couldn’t be changed. He could get used to the Iron Islands and learn to swim in the sea, but he wasn’t and could never be a Greyjoy. It was not his business, but he hoped Robb Stark could fit in with his blood family when he reunited with them.


	7. Robb II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This happens, as usual, an year after the last chapter.

**Robb**

“Take it,” Theon said, giving him the axe. “I will let you start, as it’s the first time you play.”

Robb took it and moved several steps away from Theon. Then he examined the weapon he held in his hand quickly and on the sly. He was expecting it to have no cutting edges, as the tourney swords, so he was very surprised when he found out it was sharp. He peeped at Theon and he saw he was smiling: he was probably amused at Robb’s insecurity.

He lowered his eyes, trying to avoid Theon’s, and took a deep breath to encourage himself. Then he raised the axe and threw it to his friend, who caught it in the air with a swift movement. With the smile that seldom left his face he threw the weapon to Robb. It was a low pass, and he preferred to leap over it. He picked it up again and threw it to Theon, who also decided to jump it and then threw it back at Robb.

They already had a rhythm to follow, and they wouldn’t stop until one of them lost. It was a bit slower than most finger dances Robb had seen before, because it was the first time he played and he still had to get used to it. But he was doing fine, and if Theon wasn’t impressed, he was at least pleased by his skills in the game, because he seemed to be having fun.

They threw it at each other for some minutes, until the game ended abruptly, with an event similar to the one the game was named after. Robb screamed as loud as he could, and then laughed out loud in order to stop shrieking. He had once heard Victarion say that Ironborn laughed at pain, so it seemed to him a good alternative. But Theon’s baffled face he didn’t agree with his uncle’s notion.

“Robb, are you well?” His friend sounded worried.

“Yes, Theon. I think I’ve lost a finger, but that’s not bid deal, or is it?” He answered, making light of it.

“Come on! I haven’t cut you any finger; I can still see all 5 of them in your hand! But you got a very deep cut. I think I’ve never seen so much blood pour out from a single place! Come here, you need to clean that now, and see if you can save yourself.”

“Save myself? Wasn’t this just a game?” He asked then, suddenly concerned. “Nobody dies for playing the finger dance, or do they?”

“Normally nobody dies, but you can get a bad cut and it can get infected, and the treatment is awfully painful: with fire and saltwater,” Theon explained, more troubled than he had ever seen him.

After cleaning his wound and checking that the blood flow had decreased considerably, he decided to bandage it with a shred of old but clean cloth, until the cut scarred. When he finished he sat on an armchair near the hearth, next to Theon.

It was a stormy afternoon, and they could not go out to do anything interesting. Now that Robb was hurt they couldn’t play anything interesting in either. They sat in silence, thinking of something to do, until Theon asked him if it had stopped hurting.

“Almost. It still hurts a little, but I am now too old to whimper for a cut I got playing, don’t you think? You told me no one has ever died for dancing the finger dance.”

“I told you that _normally_ nobody dies, but there were people who did. And there were many men who actually lost their fingers dancing.”

“But, if this game is so dangerous, why do they play it?” He asked, horrified.

He could understand men who fought and sacrificed their lives for love, honor, family, and other such things; he was willing to sacrifice his own, if it ever came to it. But to risk such pain and danger for no reason, and having as a foe a friend that wishes you no ill, was something that made no sense to Robb. Until the moment the axe cut him he had been certain that it was just a game, and that was why he had accepted to play. Now he realized he had no idea what it was all about.

“It’s supposed to be fun: you play with your friends, dance at a fast pace challenging those who play with you, you throw the axe and try to catch it. You make japes and tease the others, trying to confound them and take them unawares. You laugh at the loser and boast when you win, showing that nothing scares you, and that they can’t affect you even by throwing an axe right to your face,” he replied, back in his usual arrogant and amused tone.

“So that’s what it’s all about? Is it a competition to see who the best fighter is? And the bravest?”

“Sort of. But more amusing. It’s just a game. To see who fights best, we Ironborn fight.” He stayed silent for a while. After a long pause, he spoke again. “My father told me he will have a ship built for me, and that it will be ready by next year. You will be then 12: old enough to come with me, if you wish. Would you like to travel in my ship next year?”

“Yes, of course,” said Robb. He was thrilled by the idea, but he thought it was better not to let it show so much. Theon already knew that Robb admired him; he didn’t want to give him reasons to be more conceited than he already was.

“That’s great! You will be my squire, then. I will teach you everything you need to know about ships, and you will be by my side, helping me with whatever I need. And when the time comes, you may have your first battle experience!”

The idea made Robb smile. He knew battles were dangerous and bloody, but he had been training all his life to become one of those knights of shining armor who fought for righteous causes and rescued maidens, or the captain of a great ship, strong, powerful and able to plunder any city and defeat any foe. He had been listening to songs about knights even before he had learned to read, and he had lived among captains of ships and fleets since he arrived in Pyke. He was thrilled to get an opportunity to participate in a battle at last.

“I don’t know about you, but if we stay much longer sitting here and watching as the fire in the hearth goes out, I will die of boredom,” Robb complained after some minutes. “Can’t we play some game or something?”

“With your hand strapped up, the only thing we can play is Come-into-my-castle. And I pass.”

Robb took his bandage off and looked at him, smiling. “And now?”

“Now, I think you are ready to play and fight… a pillow-fight,” Theon almost mocked him.

Robb picked one of the cushions that were on the armchair, smashed it in his face, and then he ran.

“You want to play? You will see, Stark! When I catch you, I will cut all your fingers off, starting with the tiny one between your legs!” He heard Theon say as he stood up and ran after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, if you liked it, please let me know! I love to get feedback :)


	8. Theon II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this happens a year after the last chapter.

**Theon**

The wind hit him in the face, making his hair wave. The sea shook and waved all around him, and the _Sea Bitch_ (as he had chosen to name his ship) joined in the swaying of the waves. But this didn’t bother Theon, who felt as comfortable there as he would feel on land. Or even better, becausehere he was the highest authority; the king of the ship.  
It was hot, because they were in the south, journeying to the Summer Islands. If they were lucky they would be able to plunder part of the city, take some wine, some of the special bows that were exclusive of the Summer Islands, a couple of thralls and, if he found a girl that was attractive enough and who could speak the common tongue of Westeros, he would take her as his first salt wife. And if he didn’t, he could still have some fun with no need of getting married.

“Look there, Theon! There’s a merchant ship coming this way!” Robb exclaimed.

Indeed, a longship from the Summer Islands was drawing near, sailing in their opposite direction. It was a ship used mainly for commerce, and it was not specially prepared for a battle. Theon looked at his friend, who smiled with excitement. Robb had been waiting for the moment to attack ever since they set sail, almost a moon’s turn ago. _And why not?_ Theon thought. Boarding a merchant ship before disembarking in the isles didn’t seem like a bad idea.

Raising his voice to sound loud and authoritative, he commanded his men to approach the other ship, and take it. This thrilled them, and they rushed to obey him with a speed they had never used before when it came to comply with his commands. Theon smiled and unsheathed his sword. He had always preferred the bow, but it was better to fight in close combat this time, because these particular foes were easier to defeat in that way.

He heard Robb pick a sword from behind him. He meant to fight, it seemed. But even if the men in the other ship were not ready to fight, they would surely be grown men, and many of them would be armed nonetheless. It was dangerous, and Robb was still a child.

“Robb, wait! I need you to cover me while I capture the other ship. Take my bow and aim at anyone who tries to kill me. I trust in your aim,” Theon commanded him, handing him his favorite weapon.

Now he could be sure that Robb was not going to put himself in danger, and that he wasn’t going to get hurt either, because Robb would be protecting him. But the best thing was that his friend would not feel offended, as he was going to fight, in a way, and he would believe he was performing an important task.

Theon waited for his men to bridge the gap between the ships with a wooden plank and then he walked on it to the other vessel. His crew followed, shouting battle cries and starting the attack.

He didn’t want to kill many people, but just enough to force the ones who stayed alive to surrender. Theon began to fight with one of the armed men who were defending the ship. His foe knew how to fight, and he blocked Theon’s blows deftly. The fight was even, and though Theon tried to pierce his armor and defeat him once and for all, he couldn’t find the way to take him unawares. He was focused on this opponent when, suddenly, he heard a man crying a foreign battle cry from behind him. He turned and saw that it was one of the men from the Summer Isles, and he was about to pierce his neck with a sword.

He had no time to react and he thought he was going to die right there, but then, just in time, an arrow pierced the attacker’s throat, and he fell dead without hurting Theon. But the danger was not over: taking advantage of the moment’s distraction, the guard who had been fighting against him lounged, forcing him to step back and go on the defensive. Now it was Theon the one who blocked, while the other one attacked. He strived to increase his speed and attack again, but he could only accomplish this at times.

Finally the other one reeled with a shriek, losing his balance and focus for a second. This was enough for Theon, who put an end to the man’s life with just one more blow. Then he looked at him more closely, to see if there was something valuable in the defeated warrior’s clothes. He found a sort of golden bracer with inlaid rubies, and he took it. But then he saw something that stopped him: the man had an arrow in his leg. Theon was certain it had been shot by one of his crew, because most islanders were too good in archery to accidentally shot one of his own, and he was also certain that there was only one person in his crew fighting with a bow.

He saved the bracer in his pocket and looked around for a new opponent. There were few armed ones left, but he found one all the same, and he attacked him non-stop, making him step back. A minute later he managed to leave him bleeding with shallow wounds, laying on the deck and begging for his life.

Theon granted him his wish and asked him his name, but the answer the islander gave him was unpronounceable for him. He asked him then if he could speak in the common tongue of Westeros, and he nodded. Theon offered to let him live, in return for him becoming his _thrall_. When the warrior accepted, Theon explained him briefly what being a _thrall_ implied, and the differences these had with slaves. He told him he would have to be part of his crew from that moment on, and that he would be forced to serve him. The man agreed to his terms without complaints, admitting his defeat, and Theon left his new servant cleaning his wounds. He sought out Robb, who had just arrived on the deck.

“Robb, look at the prize of your first battle!” He exclaimed, giving him the bracer.

“What are you talking about? You got it; it belongs to you.”

“You have defeated its owner with an arrow. You have paid the iron price for it. It’s yours.”

Robb smiled, proud and surprised, as he took his prize. Theon told him he could take whatever he liked from the other man he had killed, too. The boy examined the fallen warrior and found a silver ring he decided to keep.

Theon would keep all the ship’s goods, and his new servant’s belongings. This included a bow from the Summer Isles, which pleased him very much. Smiling of pride because of his new acquisitions he approached his crewmen. Many of them were fighting for the only 3 women who were on the ship, possibly relatives of the defeated captain, who had been killed in the fight. After appraising them quickly and deciding he wasn’t that interested in them, Theon told them to settle the matter with a “pissing contest”. The 3 men who reached furthest would get the women. They seemed to agree with the idea, and started playing.

Once the contest for the salt wives was over, Theon commanded them to resume the voyage to the Summer Isles. Now they had another ship, and a great shipload of palm wine to take to the Iron Islands, but he wanted to go on and see if he could find something else too. He left one of his men in charge of the new ship, and some others to help him in case its surviving former crewmen rebelled against its new owners. Then he returned to the _Sea Bitch_ with the rest, ready to continue the journey. That night he allowed his crew to celebrate and feast on the wine they had got, but he ate alone in his cabin, with Robb, who was his cupbearer and squire.

“I wish I could be a captain, like you,” Robb said suddenly, as they finished their supper.

“You are still too young to be a captain. For a boy 12, having killed 2 men is more than enough. But when you are older, I think you could be.”

“But I am not ironborn, like you. Victarion wouldn’t let me be part of the Iron Fleet,” the boy objected, drinking some of the palm wine they had opened that night to celebrate their small conquest.

“And who says you must be part of the Iron Fleet to have a ship? Have you forgotten what Asha taught you when she gave you lessons about the history of the North? The Starks had ships, and there was one who loved sailing.”

“Yes, Brandon the Shipwight. But, do you think I will be able to build a northern fleet as he did?”

“Mayhaps. And if you can’t, that wouldn’t be a problem, either: I can get a ship for you when you get older, if you never get to build your own fleet. It won’t be of the Iron Fleet, but it will be yours and, as you will be the captain, you will be able to go wherever you wish with it.”

“Thank you, Theon,” said Robb, pleased.

“You are welcome, Robb. Now you should better stop drinking and go to sleep. With the wine and the ship’s movement, it is a mystery how you are not throwing up.”

“I never get seasick. I am used to traveling by ship,” he boasted, but still he obeyed and went to bed.


	9. Robb III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, a year after the previous chapter.

**Robb**

He had already visited Lordsport many times, and it was the only important city he knew except for White Harbour, which he didn’t even remember. Theon and Asha had taken him out there, to buy some toys when he was little, and to eat some pies from its bakery. But this was not a kid’s stroll: Theon had promised him that this time it would be completely different, and that they would do things only grown men did.

Having been brought up along with Theon, who was now 18 namedays old, Robb had already a very accurate notion about what young adults did, at least in the Iron Islands. But his friend hadn’t told him what exactly they were going to do. He had only said that for his 13th nameday he would take him to Lordsport, and that they would have an adventure as the ones only grown men had with their friends.

The first difference he found between that excursion and the ones he had done previously was the time. When he was a child, whenever they went out it had been either in the morning or first thing in the afternoon, and they had always returned to Pyke before the sun set. This time, however, they hadn’t set off until the late evening, and now that they had got there it was growing dark. He wasn’t scared in the least about going out at night, but it thrilled him, because it was something he had never done, and for “grown-ups.”

“Theon, now that we are in Lordsport, can you tell me what are we going to do?” Robb asked him, intrigued.

“No. We are almost there. Wait a minute and you'll see.”

Robb followed Theon silently, a bit frustrated with his answer. He wanted to know that special thing they were going to do that night more than anything. But Robb knew that even if they didn’t do anything, that walk along the harbor with his best friend was something special in itself, and just looking at the torches which lighted the streets that would otherwise be in the dark fascinated him.

Suddenly Theon stopped at the door of a sort of tavern with many tables that were half-full, with men who talked loudly and drank beer. Robb stopped too, wondering if Theon had seen someone he knew, or if there was something in there that had drawn his attention for some reason.

“It’s here. What do you think? Would you like to go in and have some beers?” Theon suggested.

“Of course I do,” he answered.

So they went in, sat at a table slightly away from the others and Theon asked for a beer barrel to share. The innkeeper frowned when he saw Robb, but as he was with Theon he didn’t say anything, and brought them a barrel without asking about his age.

Robb had seen people drink extraordinary quantities of that drink, so he expected beer to be sweet delicious as honey or fresh fruits, or at least as summerwine, and he was surprised to find that it wasn’t. Its bitter taste disappointed him, but he drank all the same, hoping to get used to it.

“This barrel is huge. Do you really think we’ll be able to finish it?” He asked Theon. The amount of drink they had served them seemed to him more fitting for a group of many grown men than just for them 2.

“Mayhaps. If we make a bet on who drinks more, I’m certain there won’t be a drop left in an hour time.”

“What a great idea! I bet I will be able to drink as much as you,” Robb said, and Theon grinned.

“Well, if you want to bet, let’s do it. If you can’t drink as many glasses as me, we will go to a brothel and you will take a girl to bed,” Theon challenged him.

That didn’t sound bad to Robb. He didn’t have much experience with girls, and the furthest he had ever got had been some kisses on the lips, so he felt unconfident about having actual intercourses. But if he did it with a whore, he was sure he wouldn’t be rejected, even if he made a fool of himself for his lack of knowledge of the matter. Besides, an expert would surely have more than one interesting thing to teach him, which he could use when the time came.

“Very well. But if I outdrink you, you have to come to Winterfell with me next year, and stay there as my father’s squire,” Robb replied.

The idea of returning to Winterfell didn’t thrill him very much. Theon and Asha were the nearest thing to a family he had now. They were the older siblings he had never had, and the ones who had taught him practically everything he knew. Robb had thought he would stay in Pyke until he turned 16, but some days ago King Balon had told him of the change of plans.

It happened that King Robert was deeply in debt, and he could no longer afford to pay the annual taxes he demanded. King Balon had written to him on the matter, offering him to reduce those taxes to their halves if he sent his eldest son, who was now 11, to Pyke, so that he could take him as his squire. Jon Arryn, King Robert’s Hand, had agreed to the deal in his king’s name, and promised to send Joffrey to the Iron Islands in some moon turns. And once Robert Baratheon’s own child was in Pyke, King Balon would have no need to keep Robb anymore. He could still stay with the Greyjoys, of course, but Balon had said it was better for him to return to the North as soon as possible. “The longer you stay away from your lands, the more your men will mistrust you when you get back. If you stay much longer, they will see you as a stranger, and in some way you will be.” The best thing Robb could do, then, was to return to Winterfell while still a boy, and finish his education there. That was the only way they could make sure Lord Stark would allow Robb to inherit the North, now that he had other sons who had grown up there and were ready to take his place. Robb knew that if Theon had been raised in the “green lands”, King Balon would probably had disowned him in Asha’s favor, or even in Victarion’s.

Robb had had no choice but to accept the command of the King of the Iron Islands, but he wasn't eager to do so. He didn't wan to leave the family he had grown up with to return to the one he was born into and had parted from so early. The only thing that could make his return, his reunion with the parents he hadn't seen since his childhood, the half-brother he barely remembered, the sisters that were no longer babies and the unknown brothers bearable was to go there with Theon. That way he wouldn't have to part from everything he knew, at least for a while.

“I can’t: I am not a boy, so I can’t be your father’s squire,” Theon refused.

“You are not a knight either, so actually you _can_ be a squire. But if you don’t want to, I won’t ask you to do it. I will be pleased if you just come to Winterfell with me and stay there for a year or so.”

“Fine, I accept the deal. After all, I already know I am going to beat you,” his friend teased him.

And that was how, glass after glass, they drank all the barrel without Robb ever giving up. At the beginning it was easy: he felt as well as ever, and he drank the beer as if it was water. But then he started to feel dizzy, and when they finished at last, he found it difficult to stand up. Theon bursted out laughing when he saw him stagger and hold to the table to keep from falling, but he immediately stopped when he started vomiting.

It was humiliating and, of course, unpleasant, but soon after that dizziness went away. When he saw he was feeling better, Theon recovered his natural humor.

“In a drinking contest, the participants are supposed to keep what they drink in their bodies, and not throw it all up. That way anyone would win! You must admit I beat you.”

“You had not set that rule when we started playing, so it does not count. But if you want me to go to the brothel, I will. As long as you agree to come to Winterfell with me.”

“Is that the way of it? I do you the favor of paying for a good whore’s service so that you can lose your maidenhead, _and for that_ you demand me to freeze my ass off in the North?” Theon joked. “Fine! I’ll go to Winterfell with you, Stark. Let’s go now; if we don’t hurry, by the time we get there all the pretty girls will be already taken.”

They were greeted by the brothel’s owner, and Theon asked him a young and pretty girl for Robb’s first time and one with more experience and big breasts for himself. The man offered Theon a woman with blue eyes and blond hair, whom he said had been trained in Lys in the arts of love. For Robb he brought a girl from the Summer Islands who seemed to be about 15 namedays old and whose breasts looked small but well-shaped under the cut gown she had on. Theon payed for them both, and each was taken to a different room with his girl.

“So, this is the first time you make love?” The whore asked him as she took off her gown and left it on a chair.

“Yes, it is,” Robb answered as he took off his boots, hoping that he wouldn’t look like a fool for admitting it.

“Don’t worry. Making love is something pleasant, and you don’t even need to think. You just have to relax, and let go. Come, I’ll teach you.” And with this she approached him, and started undressing him.

In a minute both of them lay naked on the bed. She positioned herself over him, held his shoulder and started to shake her hips slowly against Robb’s manhood. It had already hardened when the girl stripped herself of her clothes, and now he was eager to press it against her. That was what he was supposed to do, he knew, and so he did it, looking for the mysterious and desired gate he had to enter, and moaning low as he did it. He quickly found his way in, and then she moaned too. Robb stopped, thinking that he had hurt her, but when he looked into her eyes to ask her she smiled and shook her hips some more, encouraging him to go on. He closed his eyes and followed the girl’s rhythm, who continued moving irresistibly on him. He didn’t take long, and when he got to his release he shouted, shocking his own self.

He then stood still on the bed till he caught his breath, and then he lied on her and took her again. She urged him to explore her round breasts with his hands as he did it, and he relaxed and enjoyed every moment of it, now that he wasn’t anxious and he knew what was going to happen. When they finished they rested again, and finally, they did it one last time. It was already time to go, but before he left, Robb asked the whore:

“Could you tell me your name, sweet lady?”

“I’m Katalaya, from the Summer Isles, my lord. “Is there any reason why my name should be of interest to you?”

“None, I think. I just wished to know the name of the girl I made love with for the first time. I may return here one day, and then I’ll ask for you.”

“Might I know yours, my lord?”

“Of course. I am Robb Stark, of Winterfell. Well, thank you, Katalaya. Have a nice day.”

When he went out he saw Theon was already waiting for him. They started the long walk back to Pyke, which would take them many hours.

“So? How was that, Robb?” His friend asked him, smiling.

“Excellent! Can we do it again some day?”

“Of course! But, who would have thought little Stark liked whores?” He laughed.

“Don’t all men like them?”

“Most of them do. But there are some who don’t approve of them. I have heard your father is one of them.

Robb remained silent the rest of the way, trying to remember what little he knew of his father, and to imagine how their dreaded reunion would be. At least, he thought, Theon would be by his side when it happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it for now. I am having an awfully hard time with the last chapter, and I'm not even sure if it will be better than the original. I'm trying to write about one of the pairings you suggested in the comments, and see how it turns out. I will deliver it as soon as I can get it ready, I promise.


	10. Bran

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, I've finished this fic! It was hard to get some time to write, because my semester at college is going to end soon, so I have exams almost every day now. Besides, as I have said before, I had to struggle a lot with this chapter, and I am still not too pleased with the result. I am aware, however, that it is unlikely that I will be able to do it any better, after everything I've already tried, so I decided to publish it like it is now.
> 
> Before you start reading, though, I would like to explain something. I did try to write about a pairing. I wrote an entire Sansa/Theon chapter, but then I decided it was just too stupid to have 9 chapters without them even meeting and suddenly make them fall in love. So I decided to write about Robb's return to his family instead. I used for this a scene from the books, but adapted it to the AU of this story.

**Bran**

The morning had dawned clear and cold, with a crispness that hinted at the end of summer. They set off at daybreak to see a man beheaded, and Bran rode among them, nervous with excitement. It was the first time they had deemed him old enough to go with his lord father and his brother, Jon, to see the king's justice done. It was the ninth year of summer, and the seventh of Bran's life.

Bran didn't know who was the old and scrawny man that was bound hand and foot to the holdfast wall awaiting the king's justice or what he had done to be condemned, but Jon had told him he was probably a deserter of the Night's Watch, because he was dressed all in black. The boy didn't understand why he could have deserted, knowing that it would mean his death, but he believed his brother. He was 14 namedays old, he was smart, and he knew about those things.

When he looked at his father he saw a grim cast to his eyes. He did not look at all like the father who would sit before the fire in the evening and talk of the age of heroes and the children of the forest. _He has taken off Father's face_ , Bran thought, _and donned the face of Lord Stark of Winterfell_. Bran then got serious too, sitting as tall as he could on his pony beside Jon, trying to pretend he had seen this all before, and that he was not just a boy of 7, but almost a grown man. Fortunately, he was not the only inexperienced one present. Bran glanced quickly at his brother Robb, who sat as silent and solemn as he did, but did not seem anxious at all. Robb was the same age as Jon, and the heir to Winterfell,  but he had been living away from the North since before Bran's birth, so they had only met a fortnight before, when he had returned to Winterfell at last.

There were questions asked and answers given, but afterwards Bran couldn't recall what had been said. Finally his lord father gave a command, and 2 of his men dragged the ragged man to the ironwood stump in the center of the square and forced his head down onto the hard wood.

Lord Eddard Stark dismounted and Jory Cassel, the captain of the guards, brought forth the ancestral sword of House Stark: Ice. It was as wide across as a man's hand and it was taller even than Jon. Eddard took off his gloves, took hold of Ice with his both hands and passed the sentence in King Robert Baratheon's name.

"Keep the pony well in hand," muttered his half-brother Jon, moving closer. "And don't look away. Father will know if you do."

Bran obeyed. His father severed the man's head with a single stroke, spraying out blood as dark as summerwine on the snow. Bran couldn't take his eyes off the blood as the snow drank it up and turned red too.

"You did well," Jon told him solemnly. He knew then that it was true, because Jon was an old hand at justice.

Bran had been brought up as though he was his parents' eldest son: he was the only one who took fencing lessons with Jon, maester Luwin's only student, and the first one to be introduced every time they were visited by any of his lord father's bannermen. Jon was the only older brother Bran had known for years, but he had always been aware that there was another one: a boy called Robb, who lived in a faraway land called "the Iron Islands". His mother had talked to him about him: her firstborn, who had his eyes and hair the same color as Bran's, and who liked building snow-castles and playing with wooden swords. Jon had also told him about Robb: he had been his first brother, friend and playmate. His father, on the other hand, had never liked to talk about him, yet he had told Bran why he didn't live in Winterfell with them when he had asked him. Bran had almost expected Robb to be a child of his age for what they told him, even though he knew that he was much older, and was surprised when he finally met his unknown brother.

In the way back to Winterfell Bran rode with his brothers and Robb's friend, Theon Greyjoy, ahead of the main party. The prince of the Iron Island soon started talking to Robb about some ship they had captured together and they laughed, amused with their own stories, ignoring Bran and Jon.

"Weren't you afraid, Bran?" Jon asked after a while, and Bran shook his head. "You are brave, then" said Jon, with a small proud smile.

"The deserter was brave too," Bran said then. "He knew he was going to die, but he didn't beg for his life or try to run. He was brave too."

"That doesn't make him brave. He was dead of fear. You could see it in his eyes, Bran. Besides, a brave man wouldn't have deserted in the first place."

"I suppose you are right," Bran had to admit. A deserter couldn't be brave, or could he?

Then his father approached them, and he said he wanted to have a word with Robb and Bran. They stopped where they were and Jon, realizing that his presence wasn't needed, kept riding. Greyjoy quickly decided to follow him. When they were alone, their lord father asked Bran whether he felt well.

"Yes, Father," he replied, turning round to look at him. "Do you think a deserter can be brave?" Bran asked him. The discussion he had had with Jon had aroused his curiosity.

"What do you think?" His father asked in turn, not only to him but also to Robb. His brother remained silent, not daring to speak, and in the end Bran answered his own question.

"I don't think so, because deserters run from their duties when they are afraid, and that is not brave. But, can a man be brave when he is afraid?"

His father smiled to him. "That is the only time when he can be brave." Then he got serious, yet still with his Father face, and asked his 2 sons: "Do you understand why I did it?"

"He was a deserter from the Night's Watch. An oath-breaker," said Robb, in a way that suggested that he thought it a stupid question.

"That is true. No man is more dangerous than a deserter, because he knows his life is forfeit if he is taken, so he will not flinch from any crime, no matter how vile. But you mistake me. The question was not why the man had to die, but why _I_ had to do it."

"That I don't know," Robb said, thoughtful. "In the Iron Islands, the usual punishment for oath-breakers and outlaws is death by drowning, but King Balon seldom sees to them himself. He often has his men do it, unless the condemned is someone who offended him personally."

"And King Robert has a headsman," Bran added, uncertainly.

"He does," his father admitted. "As did the Targaryen kings before him. Yet our way is the older way. The blood of the First Men still flows in the veins of the Starks, and we hold to the belief that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man’s life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die. Some day, Robb, you will be the Lord of Winterfell. And you, Bran, will be Robb's bannerman. Both of 'you will hold lands of your own for your king, and justice will fall on you. When that day comes, you must take no pleasure in the task, but neither must you look away. A ruler who hides behind paid executioners soon forgets what death is."

Shortly after that Jon appeared in the distance, on the crest of the hill before them.

"Father, Bran, come quickly! Come see what I have found!

Jon turned back and disappeared again behind the hill, and Jory came near them to ask Lord Eddard whether there was some trouble.

"I do not think so, Jory. But come, let us see what my son is so excited about," he replied, kicking his horse into a trot. Bran and Robb did the same. They found Jon at the river bank north of the bridge. He quickly dismounted and picked something, a small creature, from the snow. He cradled it with his arms, so Bran could not see what it was. The rest of the party came, and the men were struck by wonder and fear of the giant she-wolf the boy had found dead in the snow. The size of it impressed Bran. Theon Greyjoy was amused by it and he said it was a freak, but Jon corrected him, announcing that it was a direwolf.

Jon showed them the little wolf pup he had in his arms. Bran approached him and his brother allowed him to touch it.

"There are five of them," Jon reported, putting a second pup into Bran's arms. He sat down and hugged the wolf pup. Its fur was soft and warm against his cheek.

His father's men discussed the cause of the female wolf's death, and the meaning that the presence of those animals south of the Wall might have. But Bran did not pay them much attention, and it wasn't until Hullen said that the pups would die soon that he reacted.

"The sooner, the better. Give the beast here, Bran," Greyjoy said, drawing his sword.

"No. It's mine," Bran cried out fiercely.

"Put away your sword, Theon," Robb said, in a voice as commanding as their lord father's. Bran was startled for this, but also glad that his brother had chosen to take his side and confront his friend. "We will keep these pups."

"It would be a mercy to kill them," said Hullen.

Bran looked to his father for help, but he found only a frown."Hullen speaks truly, son. Better a quick death than a hard one of cold and starvation".

The boy was about to start crying, as he believed that nothing would change their minds, when Jon addressed their father, in defense of the pups. "Lord Stark," he called him. It was weird to hear Jon speak to their father in such a formal way. Bran looked at him with desperate hope. "There are five pups. Three male and two female. You have five trueborn children, three boys and two girls. The direwolf is the sigil of your house. Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord."

Their father's face changed, and the men exchanged glances. Bran loved Jon with all his heart at that moment. Even at seven, Bran knew what his brother had done. The count had turned right only because he had omitted himself. He had included baby Rickon and Robb, who had only lived in Winterfell for the last fortnight, but not the bastard.

"You want no pup for yourself?" Their father asked him softly.

"The direwolf graces the banners of House Stark, father. I am no Stark," Jon pointed out.

Their father regarded Jon thoughtfully, and there was silence until Robb dared break it, promising that he would nurse his pup personally. Bran said he would take care of his own too. Their father stated that that was the way it should be, and that each of them should feed and train their wolf if they wished to keep them.

"You will have to train them yourselves. The kennelmaster will want nothing with these monsters, I promise you that. And the gods help you if you neglect them, brutalize them or train them badly. A direwolf is not a dog, to slink off at a kick. It will rip a man's arm off his shoulder as easily as a dog will kill a rat. Are you sure you want this?"

"Yes, Father," Bran said, holding his pup tightly.

"Yes," Robb said, too.

"The pups might die anyway," their father warned, "despite all you do."

"They won't," Robb promised. "We won't _let_ them."

"Keep them, then. Jory, Desmond, gather up the other pups. It's time we were back to Winterfell."

Bran climbed to his pony again, and the others also mounted their horses to be back on their way. But when they were halfway across the bridge, Jon pulled up suddenly.

"What is it, Jon?" Their lord father asked.

"Can't you hear it?" He asked. Bran tried hard to listen, wondering what Jon was talking about, but he didn't hear anything strange. "There," Jon made his horse turn round and returned to the place where the dead wolf lay. There he dismounted and knelt down on the snow. A moment later he returned to them, smiling.

"He must have crawled away from the others," he said.

"Or been driven away," their father said, looking at the sixth pup. His fur was white and his eyes were as red as the blood of the man who had dies that morning. It was the only pup that had opened its eyes, and Bran thought it was curious.

"An albino," Theon Greyjoy said with amusement. "This one will die even faster than the others."

"I think not," Robb told his friend with a long and serious look. "That one belongs to Jon."

"That's right," Jon confirmed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it ends. I hope you liked it! And if you didn't, you can click back and just pretend you never read it. The only thing I ask is that, if you disliked this chapter, or the overall story, for that matter, don't flame me. You will not make it better by doing it, and I already know this fic has many flaws.
> 
> If you want to post more positive comments, on the other hand, you are more than welcome to do so. Thanks for reading!


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